Soccer mom
by mariu100
Summary: Or, the morning after the morning after. Just what happened between Booth and Brennan on the day following their first time together? Part of the Inner Life series. Rated T for seriously romantic fluff.
1. Chapter 1

_It's all so nice..._

For an unknowable period of time Brennan had been wandering in and out of shimmering dreams, clutching a pillow tightly against her in lieu of the person she'd been holding onto most of the night. These particular dreams were...interesting, to say the least, with sounds and sensations so real you might have thought you were actually experiencing them in the flesh. Booth was there deep in her psyche, and he was doing some incredibly pleasurable things to her; his mouth intent on devouring whatever his lips made contact with, quick fingers touching her everywhere as their bodies headed towards armageddon one more time.

Yes, so, so very nice...right until she was unceremoniously snapped out of the hypnotic reverie by moist, warm lips that were definitely real and not imagined.

Lips that were roving insistently over the skin of a bare shoulder with the lightest of kisses as she lay on her side, stopping occasionally to suck gently before moving on higher, inching dangerously close with each new pass to the very sensitive-and very exposed-area of her neck. Even so she stubbornly refused to open her eyes at the intrusion, prefering to hold on instead to the remnants of those last, brilliant images now frustratingly almost beyond reach.

But while her eyes were making every effort to ignore the commotion going on in the vicinity of her ear, another part of her anatomy was quickly becoming interested.

"Again?" she mumbled drowsily, eyes still closed. The words conveyed mild disbelief, but no real objection.

If the threadbare question was meant to shame Booth into rethinking his current strategy to even the smallest degree, it failed miserably. He was still living almost entirely off yesterday's massive adrenaline rush and the exultant euphoria that followed, too focused on the heat of her body to pick up on any subtle hints she might be throwing his way.

Because when push came to shove, Bones chose him; could have fled, pleading the circumstances. Told him that it was a mistake, a hormonal anomaly, that it was completely irrational and unsustainable. That they were both too vulnerable, not thinking straight. That his avowals of earlier that day were way too much, too soon.

And then where would he be now? God only knew, but he was sure it wouldn't be anywhere good-and definitely not in her bed this morning. But she chose _him_, to be with him, after the brutal hit that was Vincent's premature death and the unexpected bonfire of their first time together; took his arm after Vincent's improvised memorial service outside the Jeffersonian, looking just shy and hesitant enough for him to know exactly what she meant by that small gesture-hopeful and earnest, that's what it was, just like he'd been feeling right until she touched him.

Because after that, he'd been mostly good old plain, punch-drunk happy.

And if _that_ wasn't enough to make his heart bust at the seams, just as they were leaving the lab she asked if he wanted to come over to her place for dinner. He said yes, of course.

_Damn yes_.

Would have agreed to almost anything at that point, no matter how ridiculous or unreasonable, anything that didn't involve having to go home alone. They ended up taking his SUV, forsaking her car to the cold shadows of the Jeffersonian's garage in a pretty solid indication that they wouldn't be parting ways anytime soon. Not the rest of the night, he prayed. High and mighty expectations, sure, for a mere mortal such as he, but hope seemed to know no bounds this day.

As he pulled out of the lot, careful to let the other cars go first to avoid any possible speculation on their coworkers' part, he snuck a peek at her. Bones was resting her head thoughtfully against the side window, her features highlighted softly by the dim lights from the garage, looking so amazingly beautiful despite the evident exhaustion in her eyes. Beautiful and uncharacteristically subdued, as she submitted to his juvenile hand-holding in the car without a single protest, and without once complaining about the erratic, one-handed driving she had to live through as he plowed on ahead.

She also looked...willing.

To do what exactly, only time would tell. When he thought back on that drive, it occurred to him that it was practically a miracle they hadn't climbed up a light-pole or hit a tree on the way to her place, because his mind was everywhere but on the road at the time. And how he had found his way there without making a single wrong turn remained a mystery. Maybe it was meant as a sign from above that they were heading in the right direction, after all.

When they got to her apartment thoughts of food were quickly banished to a forgotten corner, where they rightfully belonged. And after spending most of the night getting better acquainted with each other in between clipped bouts of dead sleep, it was still unreal to him that he could conceivably have her whenever he wanted.

So the roving wasn't about to stop if Seeley Booth had any say in the matter, not until he came by way of some heartfelt, true-blue resistance.

"Yeah, again…unless you don't want to…" He added the last without much enthusiasm.

There was no answer.

Feeling encouraged by the license implicit in that silence, he began letting hands and then lips stray to some of his newly found favorite places, places that were so temptingly off-limits before but were now finally, gloriously available to him for the taking. He nudged her from her side onto her back with his nose and chin and kissed her neck again, his hands never leaving her skin, hearing her moan softly in the process. Nope-no real resistance that he could detect.

If he could have read her mind, he would have known he had nothing to worry about because she wasn't planning on offering any.

Deep lethargy had seeped into every muscle of Brennan's body, and all she could currently manage was taking, not doing. Being lazy had never felt so good. Basking, indulging in every attention of his that came her way-while also wondering a little curiously how many times this one would make. That was assuming of course, that this attempt came to fruition-and there was no indication so far that it wouldn't. All she could come up with was _a lot_. To that highly imprecise quantitative description alone she was willing to commit. Such inexactitude should have been inherently offensive, but she gave herself a pass; not even Temperance Brennan could be expected to effectively multitask under the circumstances.

_"I want you-I want this. I'm sure…" _

Those deceptively simple words had set a chain reaction of massive proportions in motion just a day ago, with no foreseeable end in sight.

Not that she even remotely wanted it to end; now that desperation was no longer setting the tone for what they were doing with each other, a newfound spirit of tender playfulness had begun to emerge within the much-abused sheets of her bed. Brennan found this new facet of her relationship with Booth to be very much to her liking.

"You're the one who has to get up early to go to Parker's game" she replied after a while, eyes still obstinately closed.

"So, are you saying you're willing if I am?"

"I believe that's the general point I was trying to convey."

She felt him smile as he let his lips go back to her neck, alternately nipping and licking along the way.

"Booth," she huffed, squirming under his breath, "that tickles."

"How about this?"

Brennan's eyes finally flew open and her heart lurched forward as he applied considerably more suction than he had before, causing her to arch her back at the pressure and involuntarily thrust herself deeper into his already busy hands.

"You're going to leave another hematoma" she said breathlessly, half-heartedly trying to edge him out by shrugging her shoulder. It didn't work.

"Is this your idea of a mark of proprietorship? Marking your territory is entirely too predictable and adolescent of a behavior, you should know that."

"They're not hematomas, Bones" he whispered into her skin in hoarse, low tones as the suction eased. "They're called hickeys, for your information. And you can't complain-you gave me more than one already; I can feel them. So who's marking who, I ask?"

"Whom."

"What?" Booth asked, now hopelessly confused.

"_Who_ is marking _whom_ is the grammatically correct expression. And a mass of broken capillaries is still a mass of broken capillaries, regardless of the quaint vernacular appellation. At least _you_ can cover yours up with a dress shirt and tie. What am I supposed to do if I don't want to announce to the entire Jeffersonian staff that I've been engaging in activities of a sexual nature with someone? With you of all people, Booth?"

"Wear a scarf? Make-up?" he replied flippantly, not bothering with the pretense that he had any amount of genuine interest in her predicament. Her neck, vulnerable and way too accessible, was currently taking up what little attention he still had left over after the craziness that had been the preceding two sleep-deprived days. His body had gone into auto-pilot mode a while back, no longer taking cues from his addled, over-taxed brain.

"Besides, Angela's the one who would notice the most and she already knows because you blabbed about us doing it first chance you got."

"I didn't blab" she said, slightly offended. "I was just under a great deal of stress at the time and…"

He laughed. "Hey, I'm not upset. I'm just teasing you. I don't mind, as long as it doesn't end up in one of your books. Actually, maybe I don't mind if it does. Now you can write _all_ about Agent Andy and his many special talents from personal, hands-on experience. No more relying on daydreams and Angela's imagination for _you_."

She gave up with a burst of soft laughter as he bit gently into her earlobe.

"Here, is this better?"

"Only marginally" she replied, settling more fully on her back and putting her arms around his neck to signify her approval of what was so obviously coming next. He automatically shifted his position in response and his hands slipped over the sides of her ribcage as he tried to find some leverage on the bed, his thumbs going roughly over the peaks of her breasts in the process. She kissed him.

_It's all so easy_, Brennan thought entranced, as their lips met again and again in deep, open-mouthed kisses that were all about a feverish, insatiable hunger and the reckless need for more. More of each other, more of _this_, whatever this was. In all her endless mental calculations about what being with Booth would be like, the one thing she hadn't really counted on was how easily things would flow between them and how perfectly natural it would all come to be once it happened. Truly astonishing what years of sublimated attraction suddenly unleashed could accomplish in just one day-Sweets could probably earn another doctorate out of that one.

Her legs parted languidly on their own, making way for him. Sometime after Vincent's death her overly-cautious, analytical side had stopped working and there was undeniable joy in that; luxuriating in how good the full weight of Booth's body felt over hers, she could only hope it wouldn't start again anytime soon.

And it all felt good-he felt good, everything about him, about being with him felt good, even as somewhere in the background her body was complaining weakly about being sore and achy.

Well, in a likelihood she thought smiling vengefully, he'd probably be having more than a few sensitive spots of his own today.

She let Booth do all the work this time, because she was still sleepy and he was the one responsible for yanking her out of her blissful slumber in such spectacular fashion. It didn't matter; reality was turning out to be far better than any imaginary stimulus her dreams could provide. And as for the strictly unilateral attention coming her way, she decided not to feel too guilty about it. Things didn't have to be perfectly matched every single time, she allowed after a short internal debate. There would presumably be many more opportunities in the future in which to even the score.

The pressure that had ceased on her neck a minute ago increased elsewhere as Booth found his way back inside her without any effort, like they'd already been doing this for a long, long time. He was setting the rhythm, doing just the right things to ensure that she wasn't left too far behind wherever he was going. Booth had always been very generous in every respect with her before, both personally and professionally, and she was more than a little glad to see that his goodwill extended all the way into the bedroom.

_Very generous_...her last semi-coherent thought before she let herself go, shivering helplessly against him, flowing into the rushing waterfall alongside deafening, roiling waters. Falling first, then flying, rocketing up into the white-hot sun to a place dizzyingly far away, with him following soon after. _So, so very good_…


	2. Chapter 2

It was way too early and Brennan was tired beyond what would already be considered unhealthy exhaustion, but some habits were simply too hard to break. And right now, that pesky little habit happened to be the routine early morning wake-up time. Blindly reaching a hand over to where Booth had been sleeping and finding the spot empty and barely lukewarm, she looked over towards the bathroom.

_"He's still here,"_ she thought.

It wasn't like him to just leave without telling her; that much she already knew about her partner's lovemaking habits from their brief time of shared intimacy. If he hadn't done it yesterday when there were far better reasons for leaving and not saying goodbye, there wasn't a doubt in her mind he wouldn't be doing it today.

The door to the bathroom had been cracked open to let the steam out and amidst swirling patches of fog she got a glimpse of dark, wet hair and perfectly sculpted back muscles, along with a towel wrapped loosely around narrow hips. Hips that were beginning to be a little too familiar to her.

She felt a sharp stab of desire and she looked away.

He was probably using the razor and toothbrush she had given him, she surmised. Most likely, he was too self-conscious to go back to his apartment looking like he probably had when he first woke up. Not that there was anything wrong with said look, she was sure; just that it might be obvious to anyone he met on the street what he'd spent most of the night doing.

There were so many purely selfish reasons why it was a shame that he was leaving this early, but she knew that Booth was an exceptionally attentive father and he would never willingly miss out on one of his son's activities, especially not after the promise she knew he'd made to Parker right before heading out to catch Broadsky the day before. She really couldn't fault his sense of dedication, even if this morning it was coming at her expense. Booth's constancy to those he loved was one of the things she had always secretly liked about him, frustrating as it could often be when it was occasionally misdirected-Jared came to mind.

And she inherently accepted where things were at this morning; if there was any chance of success for them, of a future for Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth, certain adjustments would have to be made by both parties. No one said it would be child's play though, and she could already tell it wasn't going to be. Allowing for ingrained personality traits in one's partner when things were purely about work and friendship was one thing, when they were both naked and awake in the same room, quite another.

In the end, she let him finish what he was doing in peace so that he could go on his way. Watching him quietly without offering any distractions regardless of the ridiculous, unexplainable fact that she was beginning to miss him already.

It was uncalled for and highly suspect behavior, especially considering that he hadn't even left yet and that they were more than used to spending time apart, but even while acknowledging the validity of these perfectly good arguments, the thought of Booth walking away without her continued to make her sad, sadder in some ways than it had the day before when there was a real possibility that he wouldn't be coming back. Her priorities were seriously skewed these days, she groused.

Brennan's frustration over Booth's impending departure was building exponentially with every passing second, until she decided that it wouldn't do; this love-struck, maudlin new sensitivity of hers was setting a very bad precedent for the future and had to ruthlessly expunged as soon as possible. Right now would probably be as good a time as any to start.

So she did what she could, consciously closing her mind to everything but the inspiring view a few feet away. She could live without him for at least a _few_ more hours, she resolved caustically.

Booth walked out of the bathroom and began carefully picking his clothes off the floor where they lay scattered, certain that she was still sleeping. And just like that, without a single warning, as he lost the towel and began to get dressed-leaving a lean, very masculine body open to further inspection-a powerful sensation of what could only be described as _deja vu_ materialized out of nowhere, sweeping Brennan back to the time she'd walked in on him and Tessa in his apartment so many years ago.

She might have kissed Booth before, been physically attracted to him, but she had never fully understood the blatant maleness of him until she'd seen him all but shirtless, a religious medal incongruously dangling off his neck, in what most likely was a very recent post-coital moment. His upfront, stark virility struck her full-force for the first time then, leaving her uncomfortably wordless and a little dry in the mouth. It had taken a long minute to recover from the shock, in no small part because Booth was usually so buttoned-up and proper around her. A prude, she had thought derisively on more than one occasion. Not on that day, though.

The way he casually buttoned his shirt as he strode over to Tessa, sweetly kissing her goodbye while completely disregarding her own presence in the room had shamefully appealed to her baser instincts and stoked a touch of something unexpected inside her. Something that was a little too much like jealousy for her liking-even if pride wouldn't allow the acknowledgment at the time. It was an eye-opening development in every sense of the word; one that would end up putting her on the defensive vis-a-vis her partner for years to come, because he was evidently a whole lot more dangerous to her hard-earned detachment than she at first gave him credit for.

As it was, her fears of that day turned out to be perfectly reasonable. The ill-conceived mistletoe kiss in her office years later was living proof.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up" he said apologetically, at last noticing the vivid blue eyes that were following him around.

"I really tried to be quiet."

And he had, still somewhat guilt-ridden about keeping her up half the night.

"It wasn't you, Booth. Unfortunately, I'm used to getting up at the same time every day, regardless of when I go to sleep. You didn't wake me. Not _this_ time, anyway."

He stood there giving her a lopsided grin, pants on but undone and a white dress shirt now the worse for wear still unbuttoned. The same clothes he'd worn yesterday after Vincent's memorial, when she had asked him to come over for dinner.

_Dinner. _

Brennan had the completely irrational urge to laugh out loud like an escapee from a mental health facility at the word. If it had been meant as a subconscious euphemism for the brazen mutual consumption that was going to follow once they got to her place, it was more than apt enough, though.

They walked through the door to her apartment after primly holding hands most of the way in the car and up the elevator, talking about everything and everyone except for the most obvious of topics. Once inside, the door firmly shut and locked, momentary panic had set in and for the first time in a very long time she didn't know what to do next with a man. Just in time, before true awkwardness made anything else impossible, Booth stepped in and saved them both from everlasting mortification, pulling her into him, kissing her gently at first and then more warmly the second she started responding to his advances. _Carpe diem, Booth_.

They hadn't even managed to take off their coats before some of the more determined manhandling began. The rest that followed, the intense, frenzied kissing in the hallway, the senseless tug and push and pull to the bedroom, the rather inelegant but efficient removal of clothing and the inevitable surrender into the bed had been appallingly simple-like riding a bicycle again-if barely remembered, because one thing kept blurring into another in just a matter of seconds. Next time, though, she would make certain he brought a change of clothes along so he wouldn't have to leave this soon.

She caught him smiling again as he tilted his still-damp head in a gesture that was dangerously close to smugness.

"What is so amusing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not amusing; nice. It's nice being with you like this, me getting dressed, you in bed."

Nice didn't begin to capture what he was thinking. Spectacular, mind-blowing, out-of-this-world insanity to be bantering with her like this, with the sheets doing a singularly lousy job concealing the dangerous womanly curves underneath.

"You mean me naked, in bed."

His face flushed a little-maybe she'd gotten just a little too good at reading minds lately.

"Yeah, that part too."

"And quite naturally I would be here. It _is_ my apartment."

"You've always had a knack for stating the obvious, Bones. Here, go back to sleep. I'll leave you alone now."

He leaned down and kissed her chastely, brushing the hair away from her cheek. It was almost impossible to keep his hands off her, though he was trying his best. Why do this to himself, starting something that they couldn't possibly finish right away?

"I can't sleep anymore; I'm getting up now. I'll walk with you to the door."

"I'll call you after Parker's game so we can go get your car. Maybe we can really have dinner this time."

His eyes twinkled mischievously, and she felt unreasonably gratified by the fact that there was already enough familiarity between them that they were comfortable teasing each other that way.

"Hey," he said on impulse, sitting down on the edge of the bed and absent-mindedly playing with her fingers.

"If you don't have any other plans today maybe you can come with me to see Parker play. He likes you a lot, you know-he'd be happy to see you there."

Whether the invitation was wise or not at this point hadn't even crossed Booth's mind when he blurted out the words; he just couldn't imagine leaving her behind again like he had been forced to do yesterday. He desperately wanted to stay with her this morning; it was the same primal urge to keep her close he'd felt right after Vincent died, and he wondered whether part of it this time wasn't a blatant attempt to keep her from reevaluating their situation while he was gone, as if his presence alone would be enough to keep her from changing her mind about them.

She was staring at him with something disquieting in her eyes, something he couldn't read.

The suggestion had obviously been a mistake. Immediately becoming self-conscious, Booth cursed his bad timing under his breath. Must be too much of him, too soon again-the never ending story of his life.

He got off the bed abruptly without giving her the chance to respond.

"Nah-forget it" he said, feigning sudden disinterest in his original proposal.

"Bad idea-you don't want to sit through some kid's soccer game-not much going on. Maybe another time."

"But I…I _like_ soccer" she let out brightly. The shadow from before was gone, replaced now by honest enthusiasm.

He made a mental sign of the cross-no way was that the answer he was expecting, not even on a good day.

"Well I don't, but Rebecca insisted. I guess it's good exercise for him, even if isn't a red-blooded, good old fashioned American sport" he said, making a face.

"You realize though, that Angela claims that there is such a thing as female intuition. I myself have never experienced such a phenomenon, most likely because I prefer to reach conclusions based solely on the interpretation of factual information, but what if she's correct? Won't Rebecca think it's strange for me to be at Parker's game on a Sunday when we aren't working? She might figure out that something unusual is going on between us."

"Uh-uh. No way-she won't. _Believe_ me. I've kept stuff from her before, especially with Parker, and she never has a clue. Never. Besides, she's always dragging Captain Fantastic there. Why shouldn't I be able to bring…"

He stopped mid-sentence, angry at himself all over again. Did he have a major case of death wish this morning going on, or what, he wondered sourly.

This latest effort at self-sabotage was good, but Bones appeared determined to keep him on his toes this morning. Instead of recoiling at this newest presumption, she seemed perfectly comfortable with his most recent display of full-blown, foot-in-mouth disease. He was left fumbling for another quick fix.

"I mean…um..."

After letting Booth ramble on incoherently for a few more seconds, Brennan resolved to take pity on him.

"The woman who no longer appears to be just your work partner anymore? That you are in the process of commencing a personal relationship with? Is _that_ what you were going to say?"

He swayed nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his doubtful eyes going from her face to the floor and back to her face again.

Brennan really hoped that the smile she was giving him would provide him with a clue as to what her feelings were on the matter, because as much as she was enjoying the sight of her for-once-wordless partner, she didn't really want to extend his apparent agony when there wasn't a decent reason for doing so-not quite this early in their relationship. _That_ might come later.

"Well, not _exactly_ those words, but yeah, that sounds nice" he said, breathing easier now that he could see she wasn't about to make a run for it.

"If it works for you." Because it most definitely worked for him.

"I believe I can make it work. I'll go," she said decisively, suddenly feeling an unreasonable amount of affection for him as she looked at his guileless, hopeful expression.

"Yeah?...Really? You mean that?"

"Yes Booth; I'll go with you."

The words echoed eerily back and forth in Brennan's head as she said them, as if she were hearing herself speak from across a great, vast canyon.

_I'll go_.

She paused for just a second; did she really understand what she was getting herself into? There could be no change of mind with Booth, once she made the commitment; not unless she was willing to really hurt him almost beyond repair. But her heart told her she _did_ know-knew even before the words had left her mouth.

Temperance Brennan had just agreed to go from work partner to girlfriend to potential soccer mom in the blink of an eye. Changes that would have been incomprehensible to the woman she'd been less than two short days ago. But it seemed that two days, under certain very specific conditions, could contain within them an almost infinite amount of time for change.

And as far as she could tell, the universe and all the laws of physics that bound it together were all still holding. The world had neither stopped spinning nor fallen off its axis because of all these recent upheavals, and the sun appeared to be shining as it should. It was still early in the day, though.

"I'll take a taxi and meet you there after I shower. But" she admonished somewhat sternly with a small scowl, "I would appreciate discretion about the altered nature of our relationship at this juncture. I'm really not in the mood for lengthy explanations about something I myself am not yet fully able to explain, and I don't think you're prepared for that either."

"Ok."

He was being _so_ careful to tinge his reply with a good dose of devil-may-care attitude so that it wouldn't come off as remotely smacking of hubris or a personal victory of some kind, but unfortunately, the accompanying smirk that made its way onto his face even as he fought it with everything he had was anything but indifferent. _He_ knew it was there, and so must she. It was the most inappropriate, immature reaction he could possibly be having at the moment, he fully understood that, but unhappily for him, it was just as unavoidable.

His shoulders slumped in resignation; this current smug mood wasn't going to sit too well with her. It never had in the past. She was bound to take it personally, and one look in her direction confirmed that retaliation was most definitely coming his way, sooner rather than later.

She was not amused. And really, he had looked so unapologetically satisfied with himself this entire morning that it was as if he was begging for some form of punishment. She could play along, she thought unkindly, and then some.

Sitting upright in the bed as she let the sheet slip off her shoulders, and knowing full well what that would do to him, she reached out and methodically slid one slow finger from his collarbone down to where the trail of hair that began just past his bellybutton disappeared into his underwear. His abdominal muscles tensed involuntarily in response and his lips parted ever so slightly. So far, so good. She finished things off by hooking her finger into the underwear's elastic, pulling slightly on it. The whole time she was carefully watching his eyes, until she was rewarded for her efforts with the sight of two dark, fully dilated pupils on a bewildered face.

Booth had not only stopped breathing, he distinctly looked like a man on the verge of fainting.

"It's quite unfortunate we don't have time for one more round this morning. Maybe later," she said innocently, as she pulled the sheet back up. Booth swallowed hard.

"One more round of what, pray tell, Bones?" he finally sputtered, recovering just barely enough to add what he hoped would pass for a meaningful leer to that question.

He wanted to chagrin her into the same embarrassed, agitated state she'd just left him in because, well, because for once he c_ould,_ now that certain lines had been crossed for good. And because she deserved it for being such an unmitigated tease.

"Just please don't call it something scientific sounding, like mating or whatever" he added, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, it's not technically mating since procreation is most definitely _not_ the end goal of our activities. I believe it's more appropriately known as …"

"No; don't say it" he choked out, vaguely horrified by the turn the conversation was taking. Really, he knew better than to give her that much rope to hang him with. Bones could beat him at this game any day of the week, what with all of his known hang-ups and her utter lack of any. He had to leave _now_, before he missed Parker's whole game.

"Trust me; I _know_ what we're doing, and it's all good." He began buttoning his shirt.

"Wait," she said, reaching out to him. "I believe I have a sweatshirt you can use. That way, you don't have to go back to your apartment to change and we can remain here longer doing something scientific, as you term it."

He narrowed his eyes at her sweet offer and her even sweeter smile, intrigued by the possibilities but also looking out for hidden drawbacks. Actually, not much by way of drawbacks, that he could see.

"Alright," he agreed haltingly.

"But I'm not wearing any kind of girly shirt. And I'm definitely _not_ wearing one of Sully's old sweatshirts" he said, pointing his finger at her.

She was taken aback by the suggestion.

"It's one of yours, you dummy. You took it out of your car and gave it to me after we got caught in a rainstorm a few months ago."

"And you kept it? Awww…have you been sleeping with it all this time to remind you of me?" he asked with a childish grin.

Brennan whacked his arm hard, the same tiny scowl from before reappearing on her face.

"I forgot to return it-don't become overconfident; it's a rather unattractive quality."

She was still smarting from the Sully reference until, catching sight of a large, irregular bruise just below his ear, one that was promising to turn a vicious shade of deep purple in the very near future, she figured that an appropriate measure of revenge was finally hers.

The uncharitable smile that accompanied her unblinking, clinical stare immediately made Booth nervous.

"You know...that one particular hematoma on your neck is definitely going to be visible if you wear anything but a suit and tie; in fact, you may not be able to cover it up no matter what you wear, now that I can ascertain its actual size and location. I believe I can even detect faint teeth marks" she said, squinting a little for added effect. She shook her head at him in the falsest display of sympathy he'd ever seen.

Those were fighting words, words that any man with any amount of pride would have to do something about. He leaned menacingly over the bed, placing his hands on either side of her and effectively trapping her in. She seemed unnerved.

She was. To her incredulous astonishment, Brennan discovered she had been reduced to an amorphous puddle of jelly, liquefied in place by the alarming surge of sheer, heated lust in his eyes. He hadn't even touched her yet.

"They're not called hematomas, Bones" Booth drawled out darkly.

One more long, scorching look that sent shivers down her back, and he dove back into the rumpled sheets with her, effectively silencing whatever other smart-assed thing he was certain she was about to say.


	3. Chapter 3

She might be suffering from more than just a touch of a headache from last night's "mommies and martinis" school event, but even in her state of fully sunglassed, dehydrated misery, it struck Rebecca right away. Because it was definitely odd. More than odd, really.

Warning-bells, screaming-sirens bizarre was more like it.

Seeley and his partner Temperance Brennan, at one of Parker's Sunday soccer games, being so insistently civil to each other and having a perfectly believable, perfectly crappy excuse for being together on their day off. And there were all the other red flags; she might not work for the FBI or Jeffersonian, but she was a woman and she knew when things were different between two people, especially two people who had been dancing around each other as long as these two had.

They were going to follow up on some leads as soon as the game was over, and _she_ had to tag along because _he_ was driving them wherever they were going. Right.

_What a load of total BS, Seeley_.

Sure, a world-famous, incredibly busy, self-sufficient author and scientist was happy to sit through an interminably long kid's sporting event-a kid who wasn't even hers-under a broiling D.C. sun just to catch a ride with her partner after it was done. As if he couldn't have picked her up afterwards.

He was such a horrible liar when it came to personal stuff that it was always hard to believe just how successful he apparently was at his job. She hoped for his sake and for Parker's child-support payments that he could bluff way better than this in the interrogation room. Of course, he'd been a fairly successful gambler in another life, so the skills couldn't be entirely lacking, she supposed.

They were ten minutes late to the game; Seeley was _never_ late to one of Parker's games, not unless it was an emergency.

And then there were the other things.

The dress pants and work shoes with the sweatshirt. The all-too-casual half-smiles and the little fidgety glances where their eyes would meet for just a second and then dart away. Bodies that were ever-so-close to each other, occasionally leaning in a bit to touch innocently, like two magnets, almost beyond their capacity to prevent. The conversation that stayed pointedly on one of the most mind-numbingly boring soccer games she'd ever had to suffer through.

Add to that those poorly concealed hickeys and the wisps of messy hair, and you could only really reach one acceptable conclusion.

Yup, Seeley was finally doing it with his partner. The woman she knew he was in love with probably long before he knew it himself-the woman who loved him right back, even if she wouldn't admit it before; and from the tired eyes and the general weirdness and what could only be referred to as the excruciating, nauseating cuteness inherent in them as a twosome this morning, it looked to be a pretty recent development. She would bet her whole life savings on it in the blink of an eye, and she wasn't even a betting woman.

She was glad for him, for them; she really was. It was about time, even if the news hit uncommonly hard in some part of her heart that she didn't even know was still alive and beating anymore.

"Good for you, Seeley and Temperance," Rebecca whispered to herself a little sadly. "It really was about time."

He was gone; gone for good this time. She could feel it. She was sure.

But still, something deep inside made her want the cold, hard proof anyway. Even if knowing could only add to the merciless hammering going on inside her head.

So she'd just sit tight and wait for her moment.

* * *

Drinking the dregs of her lukewarm Gatorade, Rebecca thanked Jesus, the Virgin Mary and every saint under the hot, humid sun when the game finally ended-not that her Lutheran parents would have approved, but some things of Booth's seemed to have carried over long after others were gone. He had that kind of sneaky after-effect on people, and particularly on women, she acknowledged grudgingly. How well she knew.

She was still amazed that he hadn't sweltered to death in the sweatshirt and the wool pants, but she figured that the weather and its wilting effects was not where his attention was at these days.

Propelled by morbid curiosity and something else she couldn't explain, Rebecca found herself walking over to the secretive new couple. She blamed her need to know on the fact that she already felt like hell to begin with, and the day at this point was up for grabs; might as well be a glutton for punishment and finish it off with a bang. Besides, personal pride and those last, stubbornly resilient embers of affection for her ex that she'd tried so hard to put out over the years dictated that she get used to the new order of things as soon as possible for her own good. There were many things Rebecca knew she was, a good share none too flattering, but a mean-spirited coward wasn't one of them.

She had also taken the low-road with him when it came to his son once too often in the past; maybe it was time to give him a break. And then there was the issue of that ill-placed, life-savings bet with herself.

Looking at them both, she bucked up her courage.

"I hope it goes well for you, Seeley and Temperance."

Booth's eyebrows shot up almost immediately; his presumed other half simply stared back, slack jawed. The pair finally turned towards each other in unison, looking completely thrown off by the enigmatic wish.

"Huh?" he asked as if bushwhacked, facing Rebecca again.

"The case. You know, the one you're working on. The one you were going to follow up on after the game. I hope it goes well" she repeated. She really did mean it-all of it.

A visibly shaken Booth remained silent, leaving an awkward pause hanging perilously in the air, low and heavy over the group.

"Oh…yes. Thank you, Rebecca. I'm sure it will go well-the case" Brennan finally managed to say, when it became all too apparent that her partner's speaking abilities had been temporarily compromised.

As Brennan said the words, Rebecca caught her giving Booth a furtive little look through her lashes along with the tiniest hint of a knowing smile-and bingo-with that one wordless interchange, Rebecca's suspicions about the duo were fully confirmed. Like taking candy from a baby, she thought.

"Yeah, thanks," he finally said looking closely at Rebecca, as if searching for some deeper meaning to her words. She was being careful to maintain a perfectly straight face throughout, even after noticing the playful sparkle that Brennan's barely-there smile had brought out in his eyes; she hadn't seen that sparkle in a long, long time.

He seemed satisfied with her innocence.

She liked to win, always had, and she'd been right about them-a triumph of sorts over two people she had a rather complicated relationship with. One that was about to get a whole lot more complicated, she knew. But she wasn't quite ready to congratulate herself on her sharp-as-a-tack instincts and killer snooping skills just yet. Because maybe, it wasn't entirely clear to Rebecca at this point whether she'd actually won or lost something in the process.

If nothing else though, she might have been tempted to laugh had she only been able to hear Booth's words to his new-and most likely his last-girl when they finally got back into the car.

"See, what'd I tell you Bones-ha?" he said with a cocky grin. "No clue."


End file.
